Page 1 of Forever & Always You
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He didnotjust mouth what I think he just mouthed. Oh, boy.
“Fired?” I repeat across the bar, slamming down a glass. “Fired,Buck? Please confirm I’m a terrible lip reader, because there is no fucking way you just fired me.”
Buck fiercely sets his eyes on me as he storms closer, pressing his hands to the sticky bar top, the wood infused with decades of vodka. “You cannot say to a customer, and Iquote, ‘Touch me again and you’ll never be fertile again after I kick you in the balls.’ What the hell, Gabby?”
I whip a towel over my shoulder and press my hands to the other side of the bar to mirror Buck, doubling down on my indignation. “Oh. So, you think it’s okay for your patrons to touch your staff? That creep has been leering at me all night! He touched my leg.”
“Maybe it was an accident.”
“Don’t be complacent, Buck, or I’ll take you down with him.” I smile sweetly, but I’m not kidding about that. I’m just scared he means it when he says I’m fired.
“If anyone is being inappropriate with you, you tell me, and I’ll deal with it,” Buck says with about as much conviction as a golden retriever puppy. He should be enjoying his retirement,golfing with his buddies and taking senior cruises around the Bahamas, but instead he’s still running this dive bar for the ten customers a day it gets, and probably will until he drops dead of a heart attack in the back room one day. His hands shake when he pours a drink, goddamn it. In what world would this senior citizen survive some rough and tumble with handsy, drunk boozers half his age?
“Fine,” I huff, then grab the towel from my shoulder and start wiping down the bar, silently seething. When did self-defense go out of fashion? Can’t a woman protect herself without repercussions?
Buck clears his throat. “You’re still fired.”
“Buck, c’mon!” I spin back around, pointing the towel at him. “You need me here. Carly takes twenty seconds to pour one drink. I do it in five.”
“Maybe,” he agrees, “but Carly also shows up on time, doesn’t give me attitude, and treats customers like more than just dirt on her shoe.” He cocks an eyebrow, daring me to argue.
And okay, fine, whatever. Maybe my timekeeping isn’t the best, and maybe my attitude is rather pessimistic, and maybe I do think the drifters who frequent this bar are exactly that—drifters—but I do my work well.
My shoulders sink when I register the determination in Buck’s eyes. His mind is made up, and something tells me it has been for a while—he’s just been waiting for one last slip-up.
I glance around the dim bar. It’s late, just after midnight on a Thursday, so it’s quiet. The guy who can’t keep his hands to himself and his buddy drink at a high-top by the door. Carly plays personal bartender to the lone woman at the end of the bar who’s been sipping wine and texting aggressively all night. There is no atmosphere, just the quiet musing of the six people in here and the musical notes of the slot machine in the corner. It’s always smelled so stale in here, like the windows have neveronce been cracked open to allow fresh air in, and honestly? They probably haven’t. I’ve grown accustomed to the stink of cigarettes that seems to cling to the walls, but that doesn’t mean I worry any less about the effects on my physical wellbeing and if one day I’ll die young from lung cancer. If I never stepped foot in this place again, it’d be too soon.
But shit, where else am I supposed to go? I’m a college dropout in a small town with zero career prospects. I need something that pays the rent with no frills. I don’t want to beg for my old waitressing job back, because I used to internally shrivel up and gag every time I carried dirty plates back to the kitchen. One time, my thumb slipped into a pile of half-eaten mashed potatoes on someone’s plate and I instantly threw up in the bathroom. Don’t even get me started onwashingthe dishes. I required rubber gloves up to my elbows just to get my hands anywhere near the sink water. Pouring whiskey is the easier gig.
“Buck, I need this job. Please.”
Buck frowns and, for a fraction of a second, he almost seems sad to be forcing me out the door. “I know, honey, but unfortunately I no longer need you.”
I stand numbly behind the bar as Buck joins me, pulling open the register and shuffling through dollar bills. He gathers a small stack and slips the cash into my hand to pay me what I’m owed this week, and I don’t even bother counting to check it’s correct. I untie my apron from my waist and throw it onto the bar.
“Good luck out there, Gabby,” says Buck.
Yeah, I’ll need it.
As I shuffle past Carly, she asks, “You’re getting off early?”
“No, permanently. Bye, Carly.” But I also think:Damn you, Carly. If only you weren’t a model employee, then maybe I wouldn’t have looked so terrible in comparison.
In the back room, I grab my phone and keys from the shelf Buck considers a secure locker and then shuffle back through thebar with my head hanging low in shame.
“What’s wrong, honey?” the predator calls over to me, mockingly pouting his lips to mirror my sullen expression. It’s like waving a red flag in front of a bull.
Instantly, I pivot on the spot and stride toward him with fists clenched. “I just got fired, so now there’s nothing stopping me from—”
“You got fired fromthisdump?” he sneers, exchanging a cruel chuckle with his buddy next to him. Realistically, I am absolutely not going to fight this balding middle-aged man, but I so, so badly want to smack him. “What kind of loser can’t hold down a minimum-wage job in a place this like? That’s pathetic.”
“You know nothing about me,” I spit.
“Oh, but I do,” he says, resting his elbows on the table and hunching forward toward me with a nasty smirk. “We see you in here all the time. Rolling your eyes behind the bar, thinking you’re all that. But look at you crawling out the door. You’re nothing.” He waves me off with a dismissive laugh. “So go on, sweetheart. Get out of here.”
Those two words make me flinch from the sting of recognition.
